Change is Constant
by Terra Bird
Summary: The war with the Fire Nation is nearing its end-the Earth Kingdom has fallen similarly to the Air Nomads, and the Water Tribes are not far behind. Hope for the return of the Avatar has died. Rebellion is futile. But deep within a forest just outside of the Fire Nation military outpost Gaipan, a group of vigilantes called the Freedom Fighters waits for the right moment to strike.
1. Chapter 1

**Author Note:** It is important to know thatthis is an alternate universe where Aang was never found. A few alterations have been made to the ages of the Freedom Fighters as well as the leadership roles. It also should be noted that Jet died many years before this time in the plot. Thanks so much to my wonderful beta for helping out as much as she could.

_Change is Constant_

_Chapter One_

* * *

That last day had been terrible. That last day of freedom: the day of Sozen's Comet.

Fire Lord Ozai had burned nearly a whole half of the Earth Kingdom, leaving the North in ruins. Few people had survived. Though Southern cities like Gaoling managed to make it through the day unscathed, the following days weren't so generous. The remaining towns and villages were enslaved and sent to work in mines, where bending was prohibited and families were torn apart. The mines were places that absorbed all hope, flushed any determination remaining in the stubborn Earth Kingdom folk away in a river of fire and defeat. It was in that place, that vile domain, that a young girl first clicked the spark rocks of her own resolution.

Grouse sat with her legs hanging over the edge of a platform, the sturdy old tree house, home to the Freedom Fighters, hardly casting a shadow against the distant forest floor. The dusty girl sat back, leaning on her hands for support. Her brown hair danced a bit in the wind, tangled and unevenly cut and not quite reaching her shoulders. On the breeze, the aroma of maple and honey hung, carried through the tree house windows. The rope bridges creaked as they swayed and a few bright red leaves drifted into Grouse's line of sight. The day was nearing it's close, the horizon fiery red like the flames that had engulfed the countryside just weeks before, though it seemed like only moments ago she had lost everything.

The pain was still there. It would probably never go away fully, but that didn't make the throbbing in her heart any less heavy. Smellerbee had been right. The Fire Nation couldn't be trusted. They were heartless killers with no emotions behind their skull-like masks. They had taken away everything, time and time again.

Being left in charge was something Grouse had never wanted. With everyone else dead, who was there left to lead? Sure, the more recent recruits showed promise and had always fought well, but those who were there before were the ones she truly felt attached to, and the remnants of the core would never be the same.

But someone had to watch over the rest of these orphans, and if not her, then who? She had been around longest, after all. At least, compared to those still alive.

Grouse would miss Smellerbee the most—Smellerbee had been like an older sister to her. She'd taught Grouse how to fight, how to hunt, how to make birdcalls—everything. How could she of all people have fallen to the despicable likes of the Fire Nation?

Grouse sighed, unaccustomed to the loneliness that came with losing so much for a second time. It had all gone by so quickly. If only she could make up for those moments she spent away from them all, alone because she wanted to be and not because she didn't have a choice. Maybe then the guilt of having not been able to do anything wouldn't weigh as heavily in her chest.

"What are you doing out here alone?"

Grouse nearly jumped, jolted from her thoughts by an all-too-familiar voice. The voice of a person who hadn't left, a person who'd managed to stay alive despite the hell that raged around them. A person who deserved to be alive more than the entire Fire Nation put together.

He sat down beside Grouse, giving her a respectful amount of space. He'd always been considerate like that. Not much would have changed with the people here, she realized, just because the war had grown more and more hopeless with each passing day. War didn't change a person—pain did.

"Dinner's been ready. You can't miss out at a time like this. They need you."

Grouse grunted in response. She didn't need him to tell her something she already knew, even if he was just doing it to be helpful. She wasn't in any mood for a pep talk at the moment. They reminded her too much of Smellerbee, how she'd always stomp around the table, throwing her fist in the air and reenacting a battle scene, or just gaining an uproar from the gathered orphans. The children who'd lost everything in the fire.

Smellerbee used to say she got the habit from Jet, the first leader of the Freedom Fighters and her own older brother figure. She always talked about him with such high regards, as if someone like him could do no wrong. And how could they, when the cause they fought for was so good?

After her moment's silence, he spoke again. "Grouse, I know how close you were to them. But let's face it: they're gone—they've been gone—and they're not coming back. The best thing you can do for them is encourage the rest of us and carry on. And starving yourself isn't going to help." He added with a small laugh.

Grouse looked at him plainly, as is to ask _Really?_ He shrugged. "Hey, speeches aren't my specialty. That's your job."

Grouse sighed heavily. "Alright, Octave. You got me. I'm starving. Let's go."

Octave smiled as they stood. "Good, you're talking to me again. I was beginning to think Longshot was rubbing off on you."

Grouse shoved him, maybe a little too close to the edge for a normal person's liking. But the Freedom Fighters were anything but normal, and Octave recovered quickly. The two made their way to dinner.

* * *

"You can't trust any of 'em! The whole lot of 'em are shameless cowards who've let their pride take over their minds! If you ever come across one of 'em, don't hesitate to stick a dagger right through their eye!"

Grouse had the attention of every orphan present. They cheered at the right times, only adding to the fire in their leader's eyes. Grouse had been especially fired up that evening, and that same energy now buzzed through the air, infecting the people surrounding her.

As she ranted on, Grouse remembered a particularly memorable speech made by Smellerbee. Grouse could specifically remember her getting so enthusiastic she had tripped off the table and kicked Longshot's plate of food into his face. Even she had burst out laughing at her own expense, apologizing to Longshot and taking her seat beside him to eat her own food. She'd been such an inspiring leader, never backing down from a fight even if she couldn't possibly find a way to win. It had been her downfall, her fatal flaw. Now Grouse only wished she had been less hotheaded.

Her speech was over. Everyone was eating, happily sharing stories and reviewing their day. Grouse sat down between Octave and Chime, picking up her portion of duck-pheasant and tearing off a piece with her teeth eagerly. As she chewed, Chime piped up.

"Good speech, Grouse! I liked the part where you talked about stabbing them in eye!" His voice was melodic, as it always was. It reminded Grouse of a story Smellerbee had once told her about songbirds and an owl-cat. She shook the thought from her mind.

Grouse ruffled Chime's unruly brown hair. The younger kid laughed. "Yeah, and I've done it before too! Maybe I'll show you some time—I still have the eye."

"Ew, gross!" Chime laughed, shoving her hand off his head. Grouse closed her left eye, mimicking a one-eyed soldier. Chime squealed and shoved at her shoulder. Grouse opened her eye. They were both laughing.

Octave nudged Grouse in the back. She turned to look at him. He was smiling too. "Glad to see you're back to normal, eh?" He took a bite of his food.

Grouse shrugged. "Can't really mope when the others are around. What kind'a message would that send?" She took another bite of the duck-pheasant. "We're gonna have to raid another caravan tomorrow. We're running low on bread."

Octave's smile faltered. "You sure that's a good idea, Grouse? You remember what happened last time, don't you?"

Grouse scowled, bringing out the attitude that gave her her name. "All too clearly, Octave. No need to remind me."

Octave stayed silent. He hadn't meant to disrupt Grouse's rare good mood, and she knew that. He was only trying to get her to think things through, like he always had. He was her best friend; it was his job.

"Sorry," she said. "It's just been weird. They all died really quickly, you know? One right after the other. It's hard when the people you thought were invincible get picked off like that."

Octave stared at her. "Believe me, Grouse. I know."

* * *

_Three Years Ago _

"Alright, Grouse, hold still." Smellerbee said, reaching up to place a shiny red apple on the shorter girl's head. It was summer. The sky was blue, the leaves were green, and the smell of sweet tree sap wafted up Grouse's nose, making her mouth water. She, Smellerbee, and Longshot had traveled a little ways away from the tree fort to a small clearing with tall grass. Longshot stood at the other end of the clearing, his bow and arrow in hand and a blindfold tied around his eyes.

"Don't worry," Smellerbee assured her with a good pat on the shoulder. "Longshot's got sharp ears—he won't miss."

The two girls had bet against each other, Smellerbee siding with Longshot that he could shoot an apple off Grouse's head while blindfolded. The silent archer had been reluctant to try such a dangerous trick, but the two hardheaded Freedom Fighters insisted he give it a try.

Smellerbee took a generous step away from Longshot's target, big enough to make Grouse worry about her decision. Maybe this wasn't the best way to prove that Longshot wasn't the best there was when it came to archery. After all, how could he be, with all those weird Yu Yan archers in the Fire Nation and whatnot?

"Ready Longshot?" Smellerbee called with a grin, eager to prove Grouse wrong. The younger girl gulped as Longshot drew his bowstring. It wasn't too late to back out, to call the bet off—

_Thud_. Grouse blinked, raising a hand to feel the top of her head. _Gone_. She glanced up at Longshot. When had he let go of the arrow? Shouldn't it have taken him at least a little longer to set up his aim? Or was he just that confident with his abilities?

Smellerbee whooped loudly. "Ha! I told you! Longshot's the best there is!"

On the other side of the field, Longshot removed his blindfold. He crossed the clearing to where the girls stood, his face betraying no emotion but his eyes expressing everything. Grouse had never been that good at reading Longshot, but Smellerbee said it took most people a while to learn his language. Grouse never thought to asked why Smellerbee had always been the best at reading him. It was just something that had always been.

"Come on, let's head back." Smellerbee said, retrieving the arrow and the apple. She tossed the latter of the two objects to Grouse. "Eat up, you still owe me your dinner."

* * *

_Now_

Grouse stared up at the ceiling, eyes unmoving from the wooden hut's roof. The cot beneath her had been stuffed with leaves and moss and smelled like the forest. But then again, everything here smelled like the forest.

The breathing of her roommates surrounded her. She could pick out Octave's breaths, along with Spunk and Cricket. The room was unusually crowded, but Grouse didn't mind. They'd taken in quite a few kids recently, and providing for all of them was hard enough. Sleeping arrangements could be changed easily.

Still, four was more than three, and few Freedom Fighters liked being in crowded quarters. Especially Grouse.

She sat up on her cot, feeling a cool rush of air as the fall breeze pushed it's way through the window beside her. Staring out into the darkness, Grouse watched as firefly-beetles fluttered through the air, illuminating the emptiness like tiny stars. Claustrophobia had seemed like such a ridiculous thing before the mines.

Pushing herself onto the windowsill, Grouse cast a final gaze into the moonlit room at her sleeping companions. Then, she pushed herself out the window and landed on a branch just a few meters lower as quietly as she could. She would go to bed later. She was feeling a bit stir crazy at the moment.

Grouse ended up taking a nearby zip line, chosen at random, to get away from the tree house. Grasping the handles firmly, she jumped, using her weight and momentum to carry the zip line along. She couldn't remember where this one went; it had been a while since she left the tree house just for fun.

The wind pressed itself against her face, whipping her dark hair around her. The night air was quiet; not even the cricket-cicadas were chirping. The only sound that filled her ears was the low buzz of the zip line as she made her way from the tree house. Somehow, not knowing where she was going made the journey more calming, soothing her need to get away from it all. Through the darkness, the landing platform appeared.

Grouse kicked out her feet to catch herself. The old boards squeaked under her feet. She felt like she'd been here recently, but the shroud of night made everything look different. She took the rope ladder to the forest floor and made it a few steps away from the tree before stopping abruptly.

_Oh_. This place.

The dead had to go somewhere. The small clearing was dotted with old mossy stones arranged in several rings, none exactly the same size. It was a lot more crowded than it should have been, but due to recent events, it seemed fitting. Grass grew more heavily in patches, working its way around the dig sites. It wasn't very tall here, but it was green and brushed Grouse's ankles. Beside each stone lay a few flowers, some newer than others. Every gravestone was carefully engraved with the name of the deceased occupant of the grave below it.

Grouse let out a slow breath before she began to walk among the graves, observing each one carefully. Some graves were harder to read than others (for those who could read, of course), but none had completely lost their meaning to time. Not like the lives of those they represented.

In another place, these same graves would have been marked by a different name, a name spoken from the lips of the giver of life themselves, from a person who'd long before lost their own life. Each stone marked a person who'd lost everything, who'd given up even their identity and their life to fight for a cause they believed in. Maybe the numbers listed on each stone would have been larger if the Fire Nation hadn't ruined the peace one hundred years ago.

Near the center of the clearing, Grouse came upon a grave she'd seen many times before. She'd memorized what each gravestone said despite being unable to read. Inscribed on it were the words:

**Jet**

**Age 17**

_**The person who removes a**_

_**mountain begins by carrying**_

_**away a small stone**_**.**

Smellerbee had told her his story before. Before Grouse even joined the Freedom Fighters, there had been a leader other than Smellerbee. His name had been Jet, and he was the founder of the ragtag group of orphans. He'd died almost a year before Grouse escaped the mines, sacrificing himself in battle to save the lives of all the other orphans in the trees. Whenever anyone talked about him, they got that faraway look that only came with remembering someone indescribably inspiring.

Grouse paused to bow slowly at the gravestone, as anyone did when they passed. Then, she continued on, taking her time to consider each name. They deserved to be remembered, after all.

As she continued to pass through the rows and rows of graves, she came to the center ring again and stopped. This grave, this grave was newer. The stone stood prominently against the earth, the moonlight from high above illuminating the surface. A recently-expired incense burner sat before the grave, and just barely tangible in the air was the lingering aroma of lavender, a commonly used scent to help calm any tension the dead felt before they left the world and help them move on comfortably. It made sense that such a high-strung person should have one set before their grave.

* * *

_Two Years Ago_

"Dying is pretty pointless if you ask me," Smellerbee told Longshot over her plate of food. Conversation had been terse that evening. The winter hadn't been kind, and many kids were feeling the bite of hunger. Grouse listened from nearby, curious as to why her leader would bring about such a topic of conversation.

She couldn't see Longshot's expression, but Grouse could tell he was just as curious as she was.

Smellerbee considered what she'd read from his eyes. "I mean, I'm not bashing on people who've died, but I think if you're going to die, you're going to want to go down swinging. That's how I'd want to go, anyway. I guess what I meant was death that isn't your choice is stupid."

But who would want to die?

"I'm not saying suicide is better or anything! I just mean that dying because you had to in order to preserve what you believe in is better than dying because you were too sick and too hungry to go on anymore. Dying like that is pointless, so I can promise I'll be around for a while." Smellerbee elaborated once more.

Longshot picked at his food quietly, averting his gaze. Smellerbee had to lean over the table in order to see his expression.

She laughed. It was a harsh sound, and her hoarse voice cracked, but Longshot didn't seem to mind. He'd always liked it when she laughed. "Of course I'm not, stupid. I'm not going anywhere until I see the Fire Nation begging for mercy."

Smellerbee nudged his side with her elbow. "You don't have anything to worry about. The Fire Nation can't throw anything at me that I can't handle."

Longshot nodded. Grouse wouldn't see it from where she sat, but below his stoic mask lingered a trusting smile. Of course he wouldn't have to worry about her. She was Smellerbee, too quick and too great with a blade to fall to the Fire Nation.

* * *

_Now_

He had believed her so easily. After all, how could an invincible warrior lose to scum he'd hated since his life began? He had believed her, and she'd lied.

This gravestone told as much.

Smellerbee was a liar. It didn't matter that she'd gone down fighting for this cause. It didn't matter that she was revered as the most skilled swordswoman the Freedom Fighters had ever seen. It didn't matter that she'd treated Grouse like a little sister, eating with her and arguing with her and laughing with her. Smellerbee was a liar, and that's why she was dead.

Grouse bit the inside of her cheek. She'd always been bitter, but never towards Smellerbee. Or, maybe she had been, but she'd just never thought too much into it, never enough to realize. It came from missing her, Grouse knew. That was all it was. But Smellerbee had been her second family, supportive and empathetic but never sympathetic. No, Smellerbee didn't pity people: she rebuilt people. She rebuilt them into an unshakeable tower, an immovable stone. She rebuilt them into a person who wouldn't pity other people either, a person who wouldn't cry so easily.

It was a dishonor of her memory to cry at her grave. Maybe that was the best way to show her bitterness, then.

Grouse lowered herself to her knees, shaking with the effort of getting rid of this bitterness. Then she sat back, pulling her knees towards herself and resting her forehead on them, hugging her legs and curling into a ball. It was night. It was dark. No one would be awake except for sentry duty, but they didn't come near here. No one would see her cry. It was okay to get rid of it all here, with only the dead for company. They wouldn't think her weak.

The breeze picked up, only for a moment. The smell of lavender was comforting, but it was not meant for her. Grouse tuned it out, tuned the world out, and just let herself forget her pride and her image and everything that prevented her from simply _feeling_—feeling her pain, feeling her grief, feeling her fear. Because if Smellerbee was dead, if the one constant in Grouse's ever-changing world was gone, then what could possibly stop this war, raging around her and the others and everyone else in the world? What reason was there not to fear?

After a couple of minutes, Grouse managed to dry her eyes, but she didn't move from her position. She wasn't ready to go back, go back to the world of people expecting things from her and depending on her. She didn't want to have to go back to being stoic and strong just yet.

In this state of uncaring, she didn't move when she heard the low hum of the zip line in use. She didn't get up when she heard familiar footsteps drawing closer, not threateningly, but cautiously. She didn't look up when the footsteps stopped beside her, or when the owner shifted into a sitting position, disturbing the dead leaves littering the floor. The person didn't say anything, just sat there with her in silent mourning.

Grouse was no longer crying, but that didn't make her any less reluctant to raise her head. Whoever this person was, they'd found her in a state of weakness, and that could be dangerous for both of them.

Then he spoke, and Grouse was so grateful it was he of all people, she released the tension she hadn't realized was building in her shoulders. "You know, maybe next time you run off in the middle of the night, you should tell someone where you went so they don't worry about you."

Grouse didn't reply. She sniffed loudly. Thank the Spirits it was Octave and not some other kid. His words were light and not accusing, but toned with worry nonetheless. She wouldn't apologize, though. Despite her instability, she would not show she was any less Grouse-y than usual.

"It's okay to cry, you know." Octave went on after she said nothing. Grouse's only response was to grip her knees tighter. Octave could always read her so well, like Smellerbee used to read Longshot. She wished she were as good at reading people, but it just didn't come naturally to her.

He was only trying to make her feel better. She was grateful, but she really just wanted to be alone. She wanted to be as lonely physically as she felt mentally, and he couldn't be sitting right there if that was going to happen. But he didn't move. Maybe he wasn't as good at reading people as Smellerbee had been.

Octave sighed beside her. He didn't say anything to fill the silence—there was no need to. They just sat there, two kids in a graveyard, aging faster than time would have liked. Minutes passed. Grouse wasn't counting, but they must have been nearing half an hour. Neither of them had moved. He was waiting for her. He wouldn't leave before she did, that much was obvious.

Finally, Grouse sniffed again and lifted her head, digging her palms into her eyes to clear them. Octave took this as a sign that she was stable again. He reached over and squeezed her shoulder reassuringly, calmly massaging his thumb over her arm. What could make a person so genuinely kind eluded her, but Octave just was.

Grouse held her head in her right hand, her left resting on her arm. She didn't look at him, just stared at the ground right in front of the grave. Guilt from her earlier thoughts washed over her, and she took a shuddering breath. She felt exhausted suddenly. She didn't have the strength to stand up, or climb a rope ladder, or hang onto a precarious zip line. She could fall asleep right here if she wanted.

But she _had_ to get up. She had to get on with her life, live with the ache left in Smellerbee's wake, forgive but never forget. Not completely, anyway.

"You ready to go?" Octave asked her. She nodded, but still wouldn't look at him. Maybe it was out of shame, or maybe something else entirely.

He stood, helping her up and supporting her for a moment. Her head hurt. She wasn't used to crying and she often forgot the consequences that came with it. But she felt better now, and a little headache never killed anyone.

They didn't move for a moment. Grouse examined the plain stone on which Smellerbee's name was engraved. So simple, so insignificant was this stone. It hardly represented the person who lay beneath. And beside it sat a nearly identical stone, engraved with another name and another age and another memorable phrase, all of which would be entirely different in another world, a place the Fire Nation had never contaminated.

**Smellerbee**

**Age 17**

_**An invisible red thread connects**_

_**those who are destined to meet**_

_**regardless of time, place, or **_

_**circumstance…**_

**Longshot**

**Age 19**

…_**The thread may stretch **_

_**or tangle but it will never**_

_**break.**_

The inseparable pair remained so in death. It was only fitting they should be buried together.

Grouse and Octave didn't take the zip line back to the tree house. Instead, they walked in silence, feet shuffling in the dead leaves and never quiet meeting eyes. What could be said, after all, when everything had long since been spoken?

* * *

The early morning air chilled Grouse's lungs, jolting her from her sleep. She sat up slowly, running a hand through her hair. When was the last time she had bathed? She'd have to take care of that soon. What day was it? Thinking back, she had mentioned raiding a caravan. But she could leave that up to some of the others. She needed a day off.

Grouse pushed her feet over the edge of the cot, wiping the sleep from her eyes. Octave and Cricket were gone, but Spunk was busy tidying up her own area. She glanced up at Grouse and smiled. "Finally awake, eh?"

Spunk was an interesting person. She always managed to pull off a crooked smile even when no one else could. She kept her shoulder-length brown hair tied back, her fringe swept to the side and long enough to tuck behind her ear. She liked to laugh, even if she could get angry when she wanted to. She was exactly as her name said, and then some.

Grouse sighed, stretching her arms over her head. Across the room, Spunk pulled her second layer of thin, stolen clothing up over her head and balled it up, tossing it into a pile beside her bed. The temperature should rise by mid-day, so keeping on a second tunic was pointless.

Even though she usually painted a dark line or two under her eyes to deflect the sunlight, Grouse ignored the habit she'd picked up from Smellerbee and combed her greasy hair back with her fingers. She left Spunk in the hut and made her way through the trees via rope bridge. A few kids swung through the trees on ropes, breaking the early morning silence with their shouts of delight. Far below, a low-hanging fog obscured the forest floor. Grouse didn't like fog. It could hide an enemy, lurking in the depths of the forest or perhaps just in front of her nose; she would never know.

"Look who's finally up," a voice from up ahead of her caught Grouse's attention. She looked up quickly, not startled, though she hadn't realized she was nearing the main platform already. It was Ballad, with his folded arms and confident smile and a sense of poetry no one would notice just from looking at him. He was influential. He was dangerous. He was also one of Grouse's very close friends.

"I don't want to hear it this morning, Ballad. Got enough stuff to deal with already without you nosing your way into things." Grouse was only half-joking. Sure, Ballad was like family to her, but her night had been anything but peaceful, and displaying her bad attitude often times knocked people down into more serious tones.

Ballad wasn't the most perceptive person, or maybe he just ignored it. He nudged her in the ribs when she reached the platform playfully. She shoved back irritably but not completely angrily. He laughed and let her go, turning around so he could watch the kids in the trees.

She should be looking around for Octave, to tell him she was going off to wash. Most of the time, she trusted him to watch over everyone when she wanted a break from all of the madness. But the boy was nowhere in sight, and Grouse didn't really fancy searching the whole forest just so she could bathe in a freezing lake. So she turned and shouted back to Ballad: "Hey, I'm going down to the river to wash off. I'll be there if you need me."

"Gotcha." Ballad replied with a nod in her direction. He then pulled out an old scroll and began to read its contents. Ballad had a fascination with poetry. He especially loved reading it in the early hours of the morning just after the sun rose. He may have been annoying at times, but more often than not he provided proverbial advice. He'd been a good friend of Longshot's.

Grouse made her way over to the zip line that would take her to the river. The river wasn't too far from the graveyard, so on her way down she passed the pathway she and Octave had followed the night before. It had looked different then, shrouded in the darkness of night with trees casting long and forbidding shadows. Now it was hardly intimidating, with golden light filtering through the red leaves overhead.

Grouse returned her attention to the quickly approaching landing. Kicking her feet out, she used her momentum to jump off before the zip line came to a stop. She climbed down a rope ladder similar to the one from the previous night. The sound of the river gurgling over rocks and sediment reached her ears, guiding her towards the body of moving water. She followed the river up to an area where the water was calm. The surface was undisturbed, but Grouse had been here enough times not to stray too far down and get caught in the current. She'd never learned to swim; she'd tried, as it was typically a necessary survival skill that Freedom Fighters had to use on rare occasion, but whenever she went too deep she panicked or sank. The closest she had ever come to swimming was waving her arms wildly and miraculously managing to stay afloat until Smellerbee pulled her out. Longshot had laughed in his own way: keeping it behind his eyes so that Grouse could just barely pick up on it.

Grouse shook the image from her mind. They were gone now. She couldn't stay stuck back in the past. Last night should have helped her get rid of her grief, but it hadn't worked as well as she'd hoped.

She pulled her tunic over her head, discarding the piece of clothing the same way Spunk had tossed hers away earlier. She didn't think to consider who might see her; none of the Freedom Fighters ever really made a big deal of any of that. They changed in the same rooms, they bathed in the same river; everyone was mature enough to handle seeing each other naked. It only seemed natural when you lived the way they did.

Grouse waded into the middle of the river, the cool water rising up around her legs. Taking a deep breath, she submerged her head beneath the calm surface, coming up a moment later and scrubbing her hair. She hadn't stolen any soap in a while, but that was a rare luxury to find in a caravan anyway.

She washed the accumulated dirt from herself thoroughly, eager to get out of the water quickly. She wasn't hydrophobic; she just didn't think that a person who couldn't swim should be wading through the middle of a river for very long, if at all.

"Hey, Grouse!"

Grouse glanced over her shoulder as she finished wringing out her hair. Piper was making her way to the edge of the river, waving at her leader. "Octave and Ballad were looking for you! Something about a raid!"

Grouse nodded. "Alright, I'll be there in a second! Let me dry off . . ."

Piper waited for Grouse, politely averting her gaze while Grouse dressed. She finished quickly and headed back towards the tree house with Piper. Here, there wasn't a zip line to take them back—they would have to walk.

"Did they find a caravan to raid?" Grouse asked, combing her short hair with her fingers as they walked. Her fringe didn't get in the way of her sight until it got wet; then it hung over her eyes, obscuring her vision. She pushed it aside, irritated when it fell back over her eyes. She huffed and ignored it.

"No," Piper admitted, "but they found something much better! An entire Fire Nation encampment, stocked with battlements and blasting jelly and enough food for a small army! It would really help get us through the winter if we could load up on all of that stuff, not to mention we'd take out a few firebenders and starve whoever they're delivering all this stuff to. There are a few more soldiers than usual, but it shouldn't be a problem."

Grouse nodded. Despite the extra risk, this would be a good haul if they could get it. They might even have soap (and, quite frankly, there were quite a few more kids who could use it other than herself).

"Who spotted it?" Grouse asked as they followed a turn in the trail. "One of the scouts?"

"Yeah," Piper replied. "It was Chime. He told Octave, who told Ballad, who told me to tell you." She smiled sadistically. "I can't wait to get some blood on my blades. It feels like it's been way to long."

Grouse glanced at her companion. She had a strange attitude. Most of the time, she was passive about things, but occasionally she could get a bit… riled up, for lack of better word. One would typically be pretty safe, so long as she didn't have her chain scythe on her. It was good when utilized as a weapon on the battlefield, but otherwise it was better to stay clear. It was impossible to calm her down; she just had to burn out on her own. Grouse hoped she could get her into that mood this time; it would help immensely considering the increase in the enemy.

They reached the tree fort. Finding a pulley to take them up, Grouse and Piper hopped onto the boardwalk. Grouse immediately looked around for Octave and the others. They were already crossing a rope bridge towards her.

Octave had a crossbow strapped to his back along with a quiver full of arrows. He preferred fighting from long distances to close combat—he wasn't exactly skilled in the latter. Chime had an assortment of whistles strapped to his belt; he acted as a scout and third-person view, alerting the group to any change in the enemy. Cricket used her knowledge of chi-blockage to fight. Ballad had his cleaver at the ready and Spunk was adjusting her set of rusty brass knuckles. Beside Grouse, Piper was checking for her chain scythes.

Grouse became more aware of all the blades she had on her person. Cold metal pressed against her ankle, indicating a dagger hidden in her left boot. Three throwing knives were concealed just above each of her wrists, held in place by two narrow bands, ready to be flicked into her hands at a moment's notice. Smellerbee had taught her to always keep a few blades with her just in case of a surprise attack. It had come in handy more than a few times.

"If everyone's ready, we can head out." Grouse announced, eyeing each member of the group. She turned to Chime. "Where did you see the Fire Nation camp?"

Chime shoved his thumb over his shoulder. "Southeast, about a half-mile away from base. Upwind."

Grouse hesitated, but only for a moment. "Only a half-mile? That's way too close. Why didn't we see them before?"

Chime shrugged. "I don't know. They just sort of appeared overnight. They're still setting up, though. I think they're planning an attack on Gaipan or something, because they don't look like they plan on moving any time soon."

Grouse stared at Chime for a moment. They were a half-mile southeast from their standpoint, but Gaipan was more west. They were preparing to attack, but why would they attack their own military outpost? It didn't add up. Maybe they _were_ just here to deliver supplies after all?

"It doesn't matter what they're here for," Grouse said, shaking her head to clear it. "We have to get rid of them before they can do what they came to do. Chime, did you see _exactly_ how many soldiers there were?"

Chime thought for a moment. "Definitely more than usual. I'd say at least thirty, if not a few more. I couldn't get a good look without going into the open. Sorry," he added.

"Don't be sorry," Grouse replied. "I wouldn't want you getting caught just because you were trying to find out exactly how many soldiers there were." She ruffled Chime's unruly hair, a rare half-smile gracing her face for only a moment. "'Sides, we'd be able to take 'em out anyway. Numbers don't matter when you're _scum_."

She turned to the rest of the Freedom Fighters, her face becoming serious once again. "We'll take two groups; Octave, you lead Cricket, Ballad, and Chime with you. I'll take Piper and Spunk. We can surround them, wait for the right moment, and then attack. Surprise is our best advantage here. They have weapons and numbers, but we have skill and experience. If we can pull them apart, separate them from each other, then we can win. Understood?"

The others nodded. Grouse jerked her head in the direction Chime had pointed earlier. "Then let's go. The sooner we get this over with, the better."

* * *

Grouse's narrowed eyes watched as the firebenders finished setting up camp. They should know they wouldn't be staying long, but whether she meant in the forest or in the material world, Grouse wasn't sure.

Around her, her team of Piper and Spunk had spread out, watching the enemy just as intently, waiting for the window of opportunity that could present itself at any moment. Piper seemed to be shaking with the effort of containing herself and remaining unseen. Spunk absentmindedly rubbed at the brass on her knuckles, the detached rust drifting away into the wind.

Across the clearing, Grouse knew Octave had Cricket, Chime and Ballad distributed through the surrounding forest, waiting for her signal.

Below the waiting assassins, the Fire Nation soldiers began to peel away into groups, talking and eating the lunch they didn't have to steal to survive. A particular group lingered near the tree Grouse was situated in. She hoped they couldn't feel the hatred that rolled off of her in waves.

"I can't believe we need all of this ammunition just to fight a few kids." One of them said.

Grouse's breath caught in her throat. She almost lost her grip on the tree bark beneath her. Everything fell into place. The larger number of soldiers, the materials they had, everything: the Fire Nation weren't here to restock Gaipan. They were here to destroy the Freedom Fighters once and for all.

"It's just a rumor, Rohit. There've been a lot of disappearances in this forest. The Earth Kingdom people in Gaipan believe the forest is guarded by the '_spirits of vengeful orphans who lost everything to the fire_.'" The soldier made air quotes around his words. "Obviously, it's just going to be some group of earthbenders who think they can stand up to the Fire Nation."

"But that's my point!" Rohit interjected. "If they're just rumors, why go to all this trouble?"

"Hey, quiet down!" Another soldier hushed. "Don't you think we're all wondering the same thing? If you say anything, we'll all get kicked out for sure—might even get sent to prison with all the extra scrutiny Azula's putting us under."

"That's Fire Lord Azula to you, San." A deep voice grumbled; leaves obscured the owner.

San jumped, whirling around. _This is our chance_, Grouse realized. "General Shu!" San exclaimed. "I-I didn't see you there!"

Grouse raised her hands to cup her mouth. She let out a shrill eagle-hawk cry, alerting the Freedom Fighters that the time had come. It was time to get ride of these scum, these who had contaminated the forest with their evil.

That birdcall was the one warning the soldiers below had before chaos ensued.

Grouse launched herself from her tree, left hand reaching for the dagger concealed in her boot. Piper and Spunk followed suit, Piper wielding her chain scythes and Spunk swinging her fists at the nearest soldiers. Across the clearing, an arrow appeared in the air for a split second before it embedded itself in a firebender's throat. Cricket was seen weaving her way through the soldiers, disarming some and blocking the chi of others. Ballad landed heavily on a firebender's back, stabbing his cleaver into the man's shoulder.

Grouse swung her dagger at Rohit, who backed away quickly. She ducked below a wild shot of fire aimed at her face and slammed her fist into his gut. Rohit gasped for air. Grouse quickly cut off his supply with a slash of her knife.

San and the other firebender recovered from their initial shock and took up coordinated bending stances. San kicked an arc of fire just over Grouse's head while the man beside him punched a fireball at her feet. The girl dove towards them, rolling and leaping back to her feet in one smooth movement. She stabbed her blade deep into San's shoulder before turning and punching his friend hard in the face. The man stumbled backwards, holding his nose as his eyes streamed reflexively. Grouse didn't give the man time to wallow in his agony. She slashed his chest and moved on.

General Shu was nowhere in sight, but ahead of Grouse, Piper was rampaging through the fray, playing with her prey more than she was actually killing them. Grouse always assumed her passion for killing came from her need for revenge. What had happened to her to make Piper develop this aggression eluded her still.

Spunk slammed her fist into a woman's face with enough force to send her reeling. She followed through again and again before leaving the soldier to bleed to death.

Meanwhile, on the far side of the clearing, Ballad was taking on three soldiers with Cricket's aid. Together, they cleaved and jabbed. Their enemies dropped like flysquitoes. Octave picked off firebenders from a distance, his arrows visible for only a moment before they struck their target.

Chime hung back. He didn't usually jump into the fighting unless it was absolutely necessary. He was a scout, the watchful eye that kept lookout from afar. He would alert the others to any immediate danger if they didn't see it.

Grouse pushed her way blindly into the fray, the adrenaline in her veins all-too familiar. It was the first time she'd truly felt alive since everyone else had left.

* * *

_Three Years Ago_

"No matter what happens," Smellerbee said, not looking up at Grouse as she spoke, "remember to never let your guard down."

Grouse gripped her thigh, hissing through gritted teeth as Smellerbee wrapped her calf. The burn looked worse than it felt, which was saying quite a bit considering the amount of pain it was putting the thirteen year-old girl through. However, both the appearance and the feel of the wound were much worse than the reality of the situation, and Grouse knew it would heal with time.

"I didn't mean to," she argued. "She snuck up on me! What was I supposed to do, rotate my head like a weasel-owl?"

Smellerbee's skeptical gaze met Grouse's defiant one. She sighed and finished wrapping the burn. Grouse's whole leg throbbed, but she released the pressure of her grip. "That's not what I meant and you know it." She began to pack the first aid supplies away.

Grouse folded her arms and looked away, discretely squeezing her forearms to take her mind away from the pain in her calf. Of course she knew what Smellerbee meant, but arguing made it easier to come off as victimized. She'd much rather blame her misfortune on some Fire Nation swine than her own fault.

Smellerbee turned back to face the younger girl. She kneeled in front of her, placing a hand bracingly on the knee of Grouse's good leg. Grouse kept herself from looking back at Smellerbee. "Hey, I get it. It's embarrassing when you mess up. But we all do at some point—even _me_."

Grouse's attention swiveled back to her leader. "'Even _you_?'" She echoed incredulously. She'd never seen Smellerbee mess up during a fight. She was way too good to get caught from behind.

Smellerbee nodded. "Even me," she confirmed. "And messing up, well, it's the one thing that will help you get better faster than training. It sticks with you because you're embarrassed by it, so it's easier to remember it when you need to."

Grouse had never taken Smellerbee for the philosophical type. That was more Longshot's thing. Maybe she didn't know Smellerbee as well as she thought she did, or maybe Smellerbee just didn't know it herself. Either way, it was good advice.

"Besides," Smellerbee added, bringing Grouse out of her thoughts. "I doubt the others will laugh. They're more concerned about you than anything."

"But I don't want them to worry about me!" Grouse insisted. "I can take care of myself."

"Then show them that." Smellerbee replied evenly. "Keep your guard up, like I said, and train extra hard. You're good with blades, so use that. You could be pretty great, someday."

Grouse smiled at that. "As great as you?"

Smellerbee laughed, ruffling the younger girl's hair. "No one's as good as I am, kid."

* * *

_Now_

That was her first time getting hurt during a fight. Grouse still had a faint scar from the incident, but it had mostly vanished with time. The Fire Nation had had a harder time landing any blows on her after that—up until now, at least.

Grouse sidestepped a blast of fire, but it managed to scrape her right arm. She bit the inside of her cheek and countered with a swipe from her dagger. Hearing someone advancing behind her, Grouse whipped out her throwing knives into her free hand and flicked them behind her, spinning around and watching the blades meet their mark. The attack didn't leave a fatal wound, but the man did get a good knife to the eye.

They had only killed about half of the soldiers by now, and Grouse was starting to see the effects of battle on the others. Piper's rampage had ended a few minutes ago, and the adrenaline rush that came with it was wearing thin. Cricket was having a harder time finding openings to block chi now that the firebenders knew what to look out for. Ballad's cleaver dripped with blood, but he was slow on his feet and wasn't able to dodge as many attacks. Spunk looked more beat up than any of the others, though her fighting style obviously had a part in that. Her brass knuckles left repercussions on her own health as well as on that of the enemy. Blood caked her hands, only half of it from enemy veins. Grouse was glad that her own weapon wasn't as double-edged.

She couldn't spot Octave or Chime. They must have still been in the trees, shooting arrows and observing the battle, respectively. If the Freedom Fighters were going to win this battle, they would need to end it soon.

It troubled Grouse that these Fire Nation had known where to look for the Freedom Fighters in the first place. The tree house was supposed to be a hidden haven for the orphans that had escaped the attacks from the Fire Nation, not a festering antmite nest that the firebenders could find at the edge of their village.

It troubled her more so, however, that they had come based on rumor alone. Normally, the Fire Nation's troops were occupied elsewhere, fighting to take control of the Water Tribes or bullying earthbenders inside their own villages. Had the Fire Nation truly come so far that they could afford to waste troops on stories of ghost orphans in a forest?

Just then, another thing occurred to Grouse, so sobering that she hesitated to stab another soldier. If all of these firebenders vanished into the woods, people would notice. Rumors would become more tangible, easily passed from village to village until the Fire Nation reached a conclusion: there were, in fact, rebels living in the forest beside Gaipan. If they realized that, they would send stronger forces than before to eradicate them.

But it was too late—they'd already initiated an attack. They could either destroy each firebender here or retreat into the woods and warn the others. Retreating had never been an option, and Grouse wasn't going to change that just because she'd made the mistake of attacking in the first place.

Grouse followed through with her attack, forcing the dagger deep into the gut of the attacking soldier then tearing upward, stopping only when the metal struck bone. What could she do? How could she win now? Maybe her weapon wasn't as one sided as she'd initially thought.

* * *

_Two Years Ago_

Longshot didn't talk much, but he had a way with words. Every time Grouse found herself in his company, she discovered she could understand him well enough if she didn't think about it. As soon as she realized it, though, she'd lose the ability to read him and end up frustrated.

"Hey Longshot, have you seen Smellerbee around?" Grouse asked, approaching her older friend. He turned at her voice. He sat at the edge of one of the platforms, feet dangling over the edge. The two were rarely seen outside of each other's company, so Grouse was surprised when he shook his head.

"What are you doing out here all alone?" She asked, sitting down beside him. There was a pause.

"Why do people always do their thinking alone?" Grouse asked, staring up at him. Longshot gave an internal shrug that she saw without realizing. She turned back to face the forest.

"Sneers always says that thinking is for people who can't fight well enough to cover their own skins." Grouse commented. "I don't think he thinks very much."

It was true, Sneers didn't think much. He argued with Smellerbee a lot, though he usually ended up being proven wrong or lost the argument. He liked to believe he was right when even he knew he was wrong. He had that cocky aura about him, not that anyone was going to complain. He was an exceptional scout.

Grouse laughed. "Sometimes he just needs to know when to give up."

Longshot shot her a sidelong glance. Did she really think giving up was the answer? People fought for what they believed in, be it because of pride or heroism. If Sneers gave up every time he was wrong about something, he may as well have never tried in the first place.

"Is that why we fight, Longshot?" Grouse asked, swinging her dangling legs. "Because we're too proud to admit we're wrong?"

Longshot blinked. That wasn't what he'd meant at all! They fought because they knew the Fire Nation had no right to rule over any of the other nations. They fought because the Fire Nation had taken everything else they had, replacing it with the kindling for a rebellion. It was the Fire Nation who fought because they were too proud.

"Oh," Grouse replied. She'd never really considered why they fought. She just knew the Fire Nation was bad and had done a lot of bad things to good people. Good people like herself and Longshot and the other Freedom Fighters. "I should talk to you more often." She smiled, realizing she'd been reading him all along.

But then he glanced at her, and she couldn't see the smile behind his eyes anymore. She was trying again, and the harder she tried the harder it became to read him. Grouse sighed. "Sorry, Longshot. I remembered again."

She knew what he would say, though: he didn't mind. He was understanding and kind and that's what she liked about him. He listened without interruption, because how could he interrupt when he was busy remaining silent?

* * *

_Now_

Grouse couldn't surrender. She had to fight for the orphans in the trees, for everything they had lost to the swine that thought of them similarly. The Freedom Fighters fought because they had to. They fought to survive. They fought because no one else would, so how would giving up help her now?

Her resolve strengthened, Grouse collected her throwing knives again and launched them into the throng of firebenders still standing. The people of the Earth Kingdom would not bow to anyone, especially not the enemy.

Maybe it was her rejuvenated energy infecting them, or maybe it was just her position as leader that egged them on, but the other Freedom Fighters seemed to redouble their efforts along with her, ready to get the last stretch of the battle over and done with.

The firebenders' numbers were dwindling. No serious casualties had been inflicted on their side yet. Grouse was beginning to think they could make it through unscathed.

Then, General Shu emerged from his tent, fully clad in armor and fresh for the battle. So that was where he'd disappeared to. He scanned the clearing for an enemy to annihilate. Grouse decided to give him an even fight: the two heads of each army's body, for lack of better word.

Grouse flicked her remaining throwing knives at the general to catch his attention. They ricocheted off of his armor, alerting him to her advancement. Shu blasted fire in her direction. His aim was notably sharper than most of the other soldiers, as he was of higher rank. She tried not to think about that as she swiped her dagger at his head. He ducked and aimed a fireball at her gut, but Grouse managed to kick off of his chest, offsetting his aim and effectively escaping the blow.

Shu recovered, sweeping at her feet. Grouse jumped, but was unable to fully dodge a strike to her shoulder. Her shoulder burned. She clenched her teeth, landing and scooping up her throwing knives. Holding three in her right hand and her dagger in her left, Grouse's wrist ached with the force she threw the small blades. One embedded itself in Shu's shoulder through a chink in his armor. He shouted something incoherent at her. Grouse had just enough time to dive forward, not landing a damaging blow but managing to cut a strap from his chest plate at the hip. He didn't seem to notice, but during her frantic attack she'd exposed her burned shoulder. Shu elbowed the back of her left shoulder, sending a jolt of electric pain through her arm and down her spine. She grunted, but managed to cut another strap as she went down. Two more.

"I'm going to show you what happens to rebels like yourselves when you mess with the Fire Nation!" General Shu announced, drawing a sword Grouse hadn't noticed before. That was okay with her; she could adjust.

Grouse raised her dagger, ignoring the pain that seared through her upper body at the motion. When Shu brought his blade down, she countered, locking them in a momentary stalemate. "And I'll show you what happens to ash-makers like _your_selves that take a step too far into this forest!"

Grouse sidestepped, pulling her dagger away from his and feigning a jab at his thigh. He took it, lowering his sword to protect himself and, in doing so, opening his shoulders. Instead of stabbing at Shu's armored leg, Grouse planted her foot firmly on his blade. She pushed off of it and flipped expertly over his head, cutting the last two straps of his armor. The chest plate fell to the ground with a clatter. Shu looked bewildered for a moment, and a moment only, for that was all the time he had before Grouse aimed to slice open his abdomen.

Shu jumped backwards, just barely escaping damage. He blasted fire at the side of her head, which she dodged easily. She had him on edge now, had him on the defensive. Grouse adjusted her grip on the dagger and lashed out again. He parried the attack with his own sword. She stabbed again and he blocked.

They continued this rhythm, jabbing and blocking and dodging. Both Shu and Grouse were beginning to tire. Sweat ran down the back of her neck, cold against her skin. Around them, the others were beginning to finish the soldiers off. Even Octave had emerged to collect his arrows, deeming it safe enough to get closer. They were actually going to do it. The nations would be rid of even more firebenders, making innocent lives everywhere easier. Grouse didn't have time to think of the repercussions now—she had a fight to end.

Grouse spun to the right, kicking Shu right behind the knees. He staggered. As he fell forward, Grouse thrust out her knife. His shout was cut off, made silent by the blade in his neck. Grouse removed her knife as well as her support, and Shu crumpled to the ground. He choked and gurgled until his ragged breathing cut off. The general was dead.

Grouse took a step forward, checking for a pulse. Nothing. General Shu, important in the Fire Nation's eyes, was just another leaf on a poisoned tree. His death would mean nothing to her. She stepped back, turning away and observing the remaining fighters. Only three firebenders left.

Spunk and Cricket had teamed up on one. Spunk slammed her damaged fist into his jaw. The soldier spat out blood and teeth. Cricket sneaked a jab under each of his arms, and they fell limp. Spunk bashed his skull in with a final blow.

Ballad and Piper took on another one, blades flashing as quickly as though they hadn't been fighting for nearly half an hour. The firebender parried and dodged some, but most of the attacks landed and, soon enough, the soldier was dead.

They could take care of the last one. Grouse turned back to Shu's body again, checking his pockets for anything useful. His blade lay beside him. It was a nice one, polished and hardly dented. Her attacks had left a few scratches, but no blade was perfect. Smellerbee had taught her how to test the durability of a sword, but she could take care of that later. Grouse would take this one to Smellerbee's rack, one of the few things that remained of the previous leader.

Then, a high, sharp sound pierced her ears. The ringing it left in her ears distracted her. What was that? It sounded like . . .

Moments later, a new sound echoed around the clearing—the sound of a drawn blade leaving its sheath. It was not a familiar sound, at least not one that came from the others.

The hairs on the back of Grouse's neck rose and she turned just in time to see the enemy blade meet its mark.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author Note: **Hey, everyone. I'm sorry I won't be updating for a while after this so I wanted to make sure I got this out now. Sorry for the cliffhanger last chapter. :D I would like to thank my friend Kotir ap Vigil for being so supportive. Anyway I have a lot of school to take care of this summer. Band takes up all of my time, it seems. I'll try to wake up early every morning to give myself some time to inch chapter three along. Thanks for being patient!

Change is Constant

Chapter Two

* * *

The clearing had fallen silent. Time seemed to stop, as if forgetting its duty to move on as the sword pressed its tip deeper into his back. Blood spilled from the wound as if in slow motion, the incredulity of the situation pressing a veil of numbness over Grouse. There was no movement, not a spoken word nor a birdcall. There was only blood, staining clothes and dripping to the earth as if this glitch in time had taken no effect. If there had ever been a moment Grouse wished she could have taken even a single step backwards, it would be now.

Octave's expression was that of a startled deerfox. Grouse might have found it amusing if not for the underlying horror that lay beneath his quickly clouding eyes as blood, his blood, seeped from the stab wound that reached through his back to his abdomen.

The final firebending soldier removed his sword from the dying boy's torso, pride shining beneath layers of sweat and resignation. Octave fell to the ground, rolling onto his back. The soldier hardly moved from his place when Piper ran, screaming, her voice breaking with emotion, and took his life with a single sweep of her chain scythes.

Piper's heavy breathing was the only sound that came before the scuffling of stumbling feet. Grouse surged forward, afraid she might lose her nonexistent chance to save the unsalvageable. She fell to her knees at Octave's side, hands hovering over him as she searched for something, _anything_ that she could do to help. Dimly, she registered the others gathering closer, nervously keeping their distance.

Octave was gasping for breath, desperately clutching his side and digging his heels into the dirt in order to ease the pain, somehow. Grouse's brain kicked into autopilot. She hardly heard herself shouting at the others to get bandages or thread for stitching—her own heartbeat throbbed too heavily in her ears to allow any other sound in. It was too late—too late to save Smellerbee, too late to save Gaipan, too late to save the world from the treachery of the Fire Nation. And now it was too late to save Octave.

The others rushed about frantically, searching the tents, now void of Fire Nation, for anything that could help. They shouted, their words background noise as Grouse wrenched Octave's arms away from his wound. She pressed his shoulders to the ground roughly, doing her best to hold him still. Grouse took a good, long look at the gash. Her face paled a few shades. The skin was almost indiscernible through the blood that poured from its puncture, though she could tell the cut had been clean. Judging by the angle of the attack, the blade had struck bone and maybe even scraped the edge of his lung. If he didn't bleed to death, he'd suffocate in minutes.

No matter which way Grouse looked at it, Octave was going to die.

"Octave," she muttered, keeping her voice calm and reassuring. "Octave, calm down. Calm down and look at me."

He seemed to hear her through his daze, because he stopped thrashing and met her eyes. Grouse could see the panic buried there, rising to the surface with each passing moment. He had green eyes. Grouse had never really cared to notice, but the green really was a lovely color, like the forest leaves in summer. Too bad it was dimming so quickly.

Grouse had to assess the situation. It was easy: Octave wasn't going to make it through this one. But there was more than that. She had to calm him down. She had to send him off peacefully—Spirits forbid he not find the path to the Spirit World.

"Octave, you're alright. The others are just getting some bandages." The hopelessness in her voice gave her lie away. "It—it's not that bad, really."

He wasn't convinced, Grouse knew, but he was beginning to calm down. She pushed away the idea that it was just because he was losing his will to fight off death.

She bit the inside of her cheek. Here she was, after enduring so much, kneeling at her best friend's side as he died. He was dying because none of them had responded to Chime's whistle fast enough, because with only one soldier left they thought they had nothing to worry about. She was losing him because she'd been stupid enough to turn her back on the enemy—she'd let her guard down, but this time she'd paid with much more than a burnt leg.

Octave knew she was lying. He had always read her so well.

His eyes grew dimmer, though suddenly they shined with reflected light. The water that collected over his eyes refused to spill over. Octave refused to show weakness, even now. Grouse almost laughed at the stupidity of it all. Someone should be able to cry when facing such an adversary as death. Octave wasn't fearless; death scared him a great deal. He wasn't ready to leave the Freedom Fighters just yet.

His breathing slowed. It was almost like he was falling asleep, now. Maybe he'd wake up after this, in another world where the dead and the never living communed. Maybe he was going to visit Longshot and Smellerbee. This one-way trip was an eternal vacation, a relief from the worries cast upon him by the land of the living. He deserved it, after all.

Octave wasn't going too far away. She'd see him again.

His mouth opened. His voice was tight with pain and fear. "I don't want to go," he said. "I don't want to go yet."

Grouse's eyes stung, but tears didn't dare reach her eyes. There was desperation in his voice and it pained her all the more to hear him speak. Instead of lying, instead of shielding him from an inevitable fate with empty words, she shook her head. "It's okay to cry, you know."

Octave choked out a sob, but that was all his collapsing lungs would allow. The water left his eyes, leaving a clear path against the filth covering his face and revealing lifeless green orbs.

Grouse's grip tightened on his shoulders, but she remained a hypocrite, her eyes dry. She squeezed her eyes shut, looking away from Octave's body.

Octave was dead. He was gone and it was all her fault.

* * *

Piper was taking Octave's death harder than most of the others. They'd been pretty close, Grouse remembered, but not in the same way he and Grouse had been. Octave and Piper had often spent time in each other's company, especially when it came to evening entertainment. Those two could harmonize like no one's business; Octave was able to hit each note while Piper played a wooden flute. Of course, there would usually be others playing along, but when that duo stepped up it seemed more like a duet than a whole ensemble. No, Piper and Octave hadn't been close the way he and Grouse had been—they'd been siblings.

The service held in Octave's memory that evening was like any other: solemn, respectful, and short. Respects could be paid quickly; they had to be around here. Time was not something any Freedom Fighter had to waste, regardless of the situation. Death only reminded them of this, so things like funerals had to be done quickly.

With Octave's body out of sight, Grouse began a speech before the gathered orphans. It was not the first time she'd performed this ritual, and it certainly wouldn't be her last. The remaining core of the Freedom Fighters sat near the front, Chime the only one not present; he would be lighting the incense. It was cinnamon, stolen from the Fire Nation earlier in the day.

"Compared to the Fire Nation," Grouse began, "our loss was small. Though we should never compare ourselves to scum like them, I'd like to make an example. Octave died today. Octave, against thirty faceless soldiers, is worth so much more. The entire Fire Nation could fall to their knees and Octave would still be worth more." In front of her, Piper's hand covered her mouth to keep herself from sobbing aloud. "Octave has followed the tracks left behind by those who've migrated before us—though we may never again meet him in this world, it's unrealistic to say we won't ever see him again. He was, and always will be, the only person that could shoot a target from fifty yards while holding any note at any pitch. We must send him off now not with sorrow, but with reassurance and courage for the future to come."

Behind her, Chime lit the incense, bowing low to the new gravestone. Grouse turned around, mimicking his action. After her, the others bowed, and row-by-row, the assembled orphans acknowledged Octave's passing. The only sounds that penetrated the silence were that of open mourning.

Chime rose after a long minute, followed by the rest of them. The young boy's usually bright eyes were clouded with remorse, the tear-tracks on his face smudged by his attempts to erase them completely. He stepped back from the grave and out of the rings of grave markers. The orphans dispersed almost instantaneously, though Piper and Grouse fell behind.

Piper hadn't moved from her bowing position. Grouse stepped over to the younger girl, hand outstretched to land on her shoulder. Just before Grouse could actually reach her though, Piper straightened quickly, rubbing the wetness from her eyes vigorously. She glanced at Grouse, her expression hard but uncertain, like she was on the defensive. She stepped away from the outstretched hand.

The wind rustled the tress above them, scattering some red and orange leaves around them. The silence between them was painful. Piper never acted this way around anyone, Grouse realized. She must have taken Octave's death harder than Grouse had thought.

"He deserved more than this," Piper said bitterly. Grouse's eyes lowered. She was right, Octave _did_ deserve more than this; he deserved more than a broken family, he deserved more than a death at the hands of Fire Nation swine, and he especially deserved more than a clipped speech regarding his memory and a stolen cinnamon incense.

Grouse raised her head again. "People die every day, Pipes. Octave—"

"_Octave_ was more than just 'people', Grouse!" Piper shouted, voice shaking. "But _you_ wouldn't know anything about that, would you?"

She turned and stormed away into the forest, leaving Grouse alone in the graveyard with nothing but the ringing echoes of her words for company.

Was Piper implying Grouse didn't care about Octave, saying he didn't matter to her? The thought made her blood boil. Piper should know better than to say something so reckless, especially at a time like this.

Grouse sighed. Or it was exactly a time like this that she would forget that. They _had_ been siblings, after all. Grouse didn't know what it was like to have a blood relative around, but watching them die would probably be more painful than watching a best friend die, though that depended on the person.

She turned toward the newest stone in the graveyard, set up in a space in the second ring. The incense burned slowly and silently; so different from the horrible conflagration that raged wherever the Fire Nation set foot.

**Octave**

**Age 17**

**There are many paths**

**to the top of the mountain**

**but the view is always**

**the same.**

Grouse had not memorized the words scribed on this stone, but she had heard them read aloud by Ballad. He did know quite a few proverbs, after all.

The words were, as Ballad would say, metaphorical. It was like double-talk, with the words saying one thing but the meaning saying another. While, in a literal sense, what it said was true, the underlying meaning was just as undeniable. No matter the twists or turns in the journey of life, death was always waiting at the end.

Grouse pulled her eyes away from the gravestone, pushing her hair from her vision and letting it fall back into place. Tucking her hands away into the pockets of her pants, she slowly made her way away from the graveyard.

* * *

That night, Grouse found herself unable to sleep once more. Even though the room was crowded with her, Cricket and Spunk, she felt the absence of Octave like a chilled wind in the winter. The room felt empty now, not overcrowded or claustrophobic. Somehow, one person amongst so many others left a void wider than them all.

_Octave was more than just people_. Grouse knew Piper was right, but it was easier to think of him as less than that. It was selfish to forget him just to ignore that loss—she knew—but Octave had been the only person left from her younger days, before everything she had scrounged together was burned away in the flames once more.

Octave had been nothing but a quirky kid at first. He'd made friends with a lot of the Freedom Fighters really quickly. He'd been an overall congenial person with selfless motives and flexible aspirations—everything Grouse wasn't. She was the one person he'd had trouble befriending.

* * *

_ Three Years Ago_

After much reconnaissance, the Freedom Fighters had decided to take an attack force to the small, little known village of Supong. Only about twenty miles north of Gaipan, Supong was a rural community that had so far managed to escape the war. Recently, however, talk of a Fire Nation army heading their way had spread to the ears of a group of vigilante orphans residing in a forest just outside of Gaipan.

Smellerbee, for one, was eager to take down some ash-maker scum. She'd only waited this long under advisement from Longshot, who'd insisted they at least send some scouts ahead to assess the situation. Now that Sneers had returned with the others, Smellerbee was itching for action.

Grouse was almost as eager as her leader was to kick some firebending butt. She hadn't been allowed to go on many missions lately. Though she suspected it was due to her mess up a couple of weeks before, Smellerbee insisted it was only because all of the things they went out to do were easy and wouldn't excite her very much. As a result Grouse had been painfully bored recently, so even the idea of an attack made her blood rush with excitement.

Now, Smellerbee tapped her foot so quickly Grouse was surprised it hadn't fallen off yet. Her arms folded over her chest, she gripped her forearms tightly as she tried to contain her impatience. Pipsqueak and The Duke were running late—she'd told them to be on time, hadn't she?—but it wasn't like anyone was surprised; those two weren't exactly the most punctual when it came to these things. Smellerbee had threatened their safety time and time again, but they must have thought she was bluffing because they never seemed to get the message.

"If they're late because they were busy collecting _lychee nuts_, I'm going to cut out their tongues so they can never taste those things again!" Smellerbee announced, her silent outrage spilling over into verbal anger.

Longshot gave her a sidelong glance. Grouse immediately tried to read it but as most times before, she was unable to consciously understand his silent language. Smellerbee snorted. "Doesn't mean they can be late for justice day. We don't have all day."

Distantly, the sound of a buzzing zip line caught the attention of the gathered Freedom Fighters. Moments later, Pipsqueak and The Duke appeared, flying through the trees faster than a Fire Nation messenger hawk. Smellerbee didn't waste a second scolding them for their tardiness.

"You two had better have a good excuse ready, because you're gonna need one if you think I'm letting you off the hook that easily!" she growled, pointing an accusing finger at the two. The scene was familiar: Smellerbee gets mad at Pipsqueak and The Duke, Pipsqueak and The Duke are unable to come up with a satisfactory excuse, Smellerbee groans and saves her punishment for later.

As went the following argument.

"We misjudged the time," Pipsqueak explained, his deep voice inexplicably loud. "Sorry, Bee." He added, not sounding too terribly sorry at all.

Smellerbee opened her mouth, obviously about to give the pair a good tongue-lashing, but then Longshot rested a hand on her shoulder, reminding her of the situation at hand. Instead of exploding angrily, she sighed and rolled her eyes.

"Fine, we can take care of this later. But don't think I'll forget later on!" Smellerbee waved her hand passively over her head, turning to one of the pulleys that would take them down. Hooking her arm into a rope, she dropped down to the forest floor, twigs snapping beneath her feet. Longshot, Grouse and the others followed, their feet pressing into the moist mulch dampened by the previous day's rainfall.

Grouse had tried to keep herself from laughing at Pipsqueak and The Duke. They were in for a good talking to, as always. She had only seen Smellerbee deliver her punishment once, but she had not let up at all just because a younger audience was nearby. Well, maybe that wasn't entirely accurate—The Duke was about Grouse's age, if not slightly younger, so any comparison by those means was out of the question. It had still been a sight to behold—those two were jumpy for the next week, at least.

Summer was a good time to be in the forest. The canopy was thick and shielded the tree house from any prying eyes, enemy or otherwise. Food was easily obtainable what with the game and plants that thrived in the warm weather. A larger number of Fire Nation caravans delved into the woods to reach Gaipan, meaning there were more opportunities to raid and loot and cut off the much needed supplies the caravans had in store. Even if the nights were stifling hot and humid, it was better than freezing.

The sun's rays penetrated the canopy, reaching the forest floor and giving the whole forest a yellow-y glow. It looked to be about noon, judging by the sun's position. If they moved quickly enough, they should reach Supong by sundown. Grouse hadn't been out of the forest for . . . she couldn't even remember how long it had been, or if she had even left since she had joined the Freedom Fighters. Her memory of her time before then kind of blurred in and out as well as the time immediately after.

Smellerbee led the Freedom Fighters through the forest, walking alongside Longshot. Despite the huge deal she had made about Pipsqueak and The Duke being late, she wasn't rushing the others. Then again, rushing would mean more breaks to rest, and that would cut even deeper into their time. The mood of the trip, however, did not match the urgency Grouse had expected on the way to liberate a village.

Pipsqueak and The Duke were having a humorous conversation involving blasting jelly and a few sparrowkeets. Their raucous laughter disrupted the peaceful slumber of a raccoon-owl, who hissed as they passed. Smellerbee nudged Longshot, saying something Grouse couldn't hear. When he said nothing, Smellerbee laughed and nodded her head. Grouse turned away from the seemingly one-sided conversation and ran to catch up to the person furthest behind the group that wasn't her. Sneers didn't seem like the type to goof off and joke around on a serious mission, or at any time for that matter, but Grouse didn't mind. Having someone to walk beside made the trip more enjoyable.

"What's Supong look like?" The curious thirteen year-old asked, looking up at the much-taller boy. She was quite small for someone her age, but it helped when she needed to fit into nooks and crannies.

Sneers glanced down at her without turning his head. "It's not too big, but there are some interesting people there. Interesting people build interesting things, so you'll like the architecture."

Grouse snorted. "Doesn't give me a lot of detail. You might want to work on your visual descriptions, Sneers." Not that she expected much more from him—she just liked to insult him. Two kids with typically moody attitudes could get along just fine, not that anyone would be able to tell. It was almost like they had a secret language; what other people would see as insults the other would see as a friendly greeting or something. Their double-talk could irritate the other Freedom Fighters, though, and sometimes the insults were just too genuine to deny. Often times, the bickering would end with a scuffle—all with the best of intentions, of course. The bruises were really just symbols of their twisted yet unbreakable bond.

Sneers's mouth twitched down and he donned the expression that gave him his name. "You're such a kid. Just be patient." He reached his right hand up to scratch at a spot on the side of his head, looking away from her.

Grouse could play the body language game too. She huffed loudly, blowing her hair out of her eyes and watching it fall back into place. She stared straight ahead, eyebrows just slightly raised and eyelids almost half-closed. It was hard to manage an aloof expression when she was nearly jogging to keep up with his strides, but she managed by keeping her back straight and head just slightly raised. She measured her movements carefully, making sure not to overdo the act. It was harder than other people made it look, but Grouse was a seasoned pro.

The problem: so was Sneers.

They continued on in their silent argument for a while. Grouse even caught Smellerbee looking back at them a few times, as if she could read their expressions even without looking at them. She'd always been creepily good at that kind of thing. The girl had eyes in the back of her head.

Grouse began to grow bored of the unspoken war between herself and her friend. She made less of an effort to pay attention to him and began to focus on the forest around her, which managed to piss Sneers off even more. While she stared around at the forest surrounding them, he glanced at her, probably to see if she was letting her mind wander intentionally or not. When she didn't react, he snorted, drawing her attention once more. A sly grin crossed her face.

"Someone's _impatient_. Might wanna take your own advice for once, Sneers." She snickered as his face took on a reddish shade. It was just too easy to irritate him.

"I'm not impatient." He scowled, and then shrugged. "I was just proving I won the argument."

Grouse bristled instantly. "You didn't win the argument!" What argument was _he_ watching? She had so obviously won that Grouse wondered if Sneers's mind had wandered further than hers had.

"No," Sneers countered. "You gave up after five minutes."

"I didn't give up! I got _bored_!"

"Same thing."

"Hmph!" Grouse folded her arms and looked away again. If Sneers wanted to be wrong, who was she to stop him? He needed to let his idiocy breathe a little anyways.

"Hey, cut it out back there, you two!" Grouse looked up at Pipsqueak's deep voice. He and The Duke had fallen behind a little to scold the two bickering Freedom Fighters. "Can't you two go for at least a minute without fighting?"

"He started it," Grouse accused childishly, pointing her finger at Sneers. Maybe if he weren't such a stupid-head they wouldn't get in trouble like this all the time.

"Don't make us separate you two," The Duke threatened jokingly, wagging his finger at her.

"Can it, small fry." Grouse countered haughtily. The Duke huffed. He hated it when she called him that—they were almost the same age, after all. A few years, give or take.

"Could you all just shut up?" Smellerbee called back. "You're giving the onlookers a headache." Grouse just barely saw Longshot nod his head in agreement. She had almost forgotten the point of this journey until Smellerbee spoke up. Excitement filled her again at the thought of attacking a Fire Nation army. Okay, so it wouldn't be an entire army, but there would probably be a lot of soldiers.

She patted her waste band, a blue strip of fabric that concealed her only knife, a small old thing that Smellerbee had given her to train with. Turned out she had been right: Grouse was good with blades. She was clumsy at first, but after some practice she had mastered a few strokes and jabs. Fighting with the thing was something she was looking forward to.

It would only be a few more hours, now. Supong would be free by morning.

* * *

Grouse smelled the problem before she saw it. The others must have as well because they broke into a run as they neared the village.

The walk to Supong had taken until sundown. Grouse's feet were aching and the eagerness she had felt earlier in the day had diminished with the daylight. The smell of smoke was not something she had wanted to be met with.

The others stopped ahead of her. She skirted around them to get a good look at the situation and immediately wished she hadn't. The clearing glowed with an eerie red hue as flames licked hungrily at the sides of blackened wooden buildings. The only sound was the crackling of the conflagration and splintering of wood as buildings collapsed. There was no sign of life anywhere.

"No!" Smellerbee exclaimed. She dropped a vile word Grouse had only heard a few times before. She turned to the others abruptly. "Search the area for survivors. If you see any Fire Nation, don't hesitate to give them what they deserve."

Grouse turned around immediately, pulling her knife and heading towards the burning village. It was a scene she had been met with a few times before—she'd just never thought she would be running straight toward the situation she had escaped long before.

* * *

The one survivor they did manage to find was hiding in the forest when they found him. He was a scrawny kid, maybe a year older than Grouse. His black hair fell in a tangled mess to his shoulders, though it seemed to once have been neater and shinier—he was probably of high class in his village. He was wearing nightclothes: comfortable pants and a loose tunic but no shoes.

The kid staggered backwards as the group of Freedom Fighters approached. His hands were blackened with soot, like he had been digging around a fire pit. He walked with a slight limp, but Grouse couldn't spot any injury on his legs that would slow him. He must have burned the soles of his feet.

"Hey," Smellerbee called calmly, raising her hands in a soothing gesture. "We're here to help."

The kid must have believed her, because he stopped backing up. But he didn't step forward, either. After the burning down of his entire village, though, Grouse wasn't surprised that he would be cautious.

Smellerbee didn't ask for his name—she never did, and what was the point of doing so when they were going to adopt another identity anyway? She pulled out the knife in her pocket. The boy flinched away, but Smellerbee dropped it at his feet. She had packed light, apparently, because she only had to unload one other sword before she was bladeless.

Grouse knew how much Smellerbee hated being caught without a blade on her person. She hated it almost as much as she hated people mistaking her for a boy, and that was something she loathed to the Spirit World and back. It was all a show, though. Grouse knew Smellerbee could punch someone's lights out if she wanted to, so dropping her daggers was mainly for the symbolism of the situation.

The kid scrutinized her with brilliantly green eyes. He edged forward a little, leaning curiously over the blades, then looked up at Smellerbee. He knelt, gathering the pair of weapons, then stood, studying them up close. Grouse saw Smellerbee fidget just the slightest bit; she was afraid the kid would take off with the blades, or worse, damage them. She always got that way when someone touched her weaponry.

Then, the boy approached Smellerbee with a bit more confidence. He held out his hands, offering her her own blades. He handled the dagger and sword like ancient scrolls, moving them carefully and slowly. Smellerbee took them from his hands gently, her shoulders tense as she kept herself from pulling them away from the kid as quickly as she could.

It was her turn to study the boy. Grouse wasn't sure what exactly it was that Smellerbee saw in him, in those pools of mossy green that refused to waver despite the weight of the Freedom Fighters' gazes, but it must have been something interesting. She sheathed her blades once more, scratching her chin thoughtfully as she smirked down at the kid.

"Tell you what, kid," Smellerbee said, lowering her hand and straightening her stance. "Why don't you stick with us for a while, and then we can punish those swine who did this to your village?"

The kid smiled, then faltered. "But, my sister . . . she should have escaped the fire with the escorts. What about her?"

Smellerbee's smirk faltered. She shared a glance with Longshot, who gave the tiniest of nods. Smellerbee turned back to the kid in front of her. "Well," she began. "We can find her too. Do you know which way she went?" The boy shook his head. Smellerbee sighed. "She could be long gone by now. You said she was with escorts?" He nodded. "Then she should be safe. But we can make a quick scan of the area, just to be sure."

The boy nodded. He didn't seem to mind listening to someone who could have been a year or two older than him. He didn't argue or object. He didn't even sniff at the idea that someone of about his age should be ordering him around. Instead, he took it in stride, allowing the confident assurance Smellerbee gave him to comfort him.

Smellerbee turned, nodding to the Freedom Fighters behind her. "Sweep the area for any sign of his sister." The look on her face said the rest: she didn't expect them to find anyone.

* * *

Smellerbee had been right: the kid's sister hadn't appeared to be anywhere in the area. He'd been devastated to hear that, but he'd continued on with the Freedom Fighters anyway, apparently determined to find her eventually.

And he would, Grouse knew, but most likely not in the lifetime he hoped.

He'd been astonished by the size and structure of the tree fort, though. He'd spent almost his whole first day meeting and talking to the other orphans and flying through the trees on zip lines. He warmed up to the others quickly, Grouse noticed. He quickly became popular with the majority of the Freedom Fighters, younger and older—with the exception of Grouse.

The kid was too happy for her tastes. It was almost like he had never witnessed the destruction of his village. He was purely optimistic, encouraging the other orphans to put their best efforts into even the smallest of tasks. He had no qualms with taking orders or following them, blindly trusting Smellerbee's judgment no matter the situation.

And Grouse hated it.

She hated how he could find the bright side of any predicament and how he made a point to point it out each time. She hated how he never seemed to stop smiling while he was around other people. She hated how considerate he was of those people and how kindness and passion and all of that stuff Grouse found irritating appeared to constantly flow from his mouth and eyes. No one could be _that_ nice.

For the next week, Grouse observed the unnamed kid's activity from afar. He hadn't picked up any nicknames yet, but the way he got around it was only a matter of time. Sometimes, Grouse would pick out some of her own and secretly call him those things in her mind. Among others, "Annoyance" and "Nuisance" stood out. She mostly tried to keep out of his way, though she somehow managed to find herself in his company anyway.

Grouse was bored that day. Scouting had been covered and she hardly felt like bathing. Anything she could think of didn't seem to offer any level of entertainment, so she resigned to hanging around in the highest branches of some of the trees in the forest a little ways away from the fort.

The sun inched across the sky slowly. Birds chirped around Grouse, above her and below her and from every side of her, reminding her how surrounded by nature she was. The air was light and dry, promising clear weather for days to come. The breeze carried with it the scent of honeysuckle and tree sap, the aromas of summer. The bark of the tree limb pressed against her back dug into the fabric of her tunic, though it wasn't uncomfortable. While Grouse was never one to use a word like serene, she could think of no other adjective to describe the moment.

Grouse closed her eyes, taking in the sounds and smells around her. Summer would be ending soon and with it the comfort of warmth and full stomachs. She wasn't looking forward to that, but part of her wanted the day to hurry up and end. Maybe tomorrow the others wouldn't be so busy and they could make time to mess around.

It was in this state of inattentive boredom that the kid was able to sneak up on her.

"What are you doing out here all alone?" he asked, jolting Grouse from her thoughts and almost sending her over the edge of her branch. She sat abruptly, glaring at the kid and holding the tree limb with a white-knuckled grip. The branch shuddered with her sudden movement.

The boy stood on a branch below her, staring up at her with a curious and only slightly concerned expression. He appeared to be genuinely interested in her well-being, which disgusted Grouse. She could take care of herself.

"You know, if a person's sitting alone in a tree, maybe it's 'cause they want to be left alone." Grouse snapped, glowering down at him.

"No one wants to be alone," he replied evenly, undeterred by her harsh tone. Grouse stared at him. That was a stupid thing to say. She liked to be alone, to hang out with herself in the trees and enjoy the loud calm of the forest. Though, she had to admit to herself, at the moment she was rather bored without company.

"You don't like me," he continued, searching for a foothold in the tree so he could find his way nearer to her. He was no where near as graceful as most of the other orphans and he looked a bit nervous about being up so high, but he seemed determined to get an answer out of her.

Grouse snorted. "You're observant."

"Mind telling why?" He asked, his foot slipping on the smooth tree bark. He caught himself and pulled himself higher.

Grouse ignored the question. "Does everyone have to like you?" She asked, trying to find a hole in his argument.

The kid heaved himself up on to another branch. He glanced over at her. "Do you really have to dislike me?"

Grouse held her tongue for a moment, unsure of how she should respond. Saying no would give the idea that she didn't despise him; however, saying yes didn't feel right either, because she really didn't have to hate him—she didn't _have_ to hate anybody. She just did.

She covered up her confliction (for that may also portray an unwanted image) and shrugged. "I can't really control who I hate—it's not really my fault."

The boy stopped at the intersection of the main trunk and some of its branches and sat down, swinging his legs over the edge. "I don't really believe that," he said. "I think we get to control how we act around others—and whether we hate someone or not." He fiddled with a few leaves resting in his nook of branches, focusing on them instead of her now. "So I don't think you hating me is very justified if you haven't even made an effort to get to know me."

Grouse didn't respond—a first for the usually verbose girl. She scowled at him and aimed her own gaze away just as she felt his flit up to study her. Her hands gripped the branch beneath her until her knuckles were white. Who was this kid to waltz into the tree fort and just tell her how to hate? He wasn't making a good case for himself if he was trying to get her to stop disliking him.

"I'm not going to try to convince you to like me," he went on, almost as if he had been reading her thoughts. Great, just what Grouse needed: another mind reader. If he ended up reading her like Smellerbee and Longshot did, she might just have the mindset to kill the kid (not that she actually would). "But I would like you to know that it's good to know you're thinking about me."

Grouse's face flushed a deep crimson, both from embarrassment and anger. "I-idiot! I don't even care about—!" His laughing cut her off. If her face could turn any redder, it did. "Stop laughing at me!'

The kid's laughing died away, but a smirk lingered on his face. His attitude had changed immediately—from chivalrous to coy in a heartbeat. Maybe there was more to this kid than Grouse had acknowledged.

"Alright, alright." He sighed. "No need to get upset. Geez, you're really sensitive."

"I'm not _sensitive_!" Grouse retorted. His brow rose skeptically. She bit the inside of her cheek. She wasn't doing much to prove him wrong. "I'm _expressive_. There's a difference."

The kid had managed to make it to a branch almost level with her own. He stared across the space between them at her, swinging his legs childishly. "Oh!" He said suddenly, digging around in his tunic for something. "I have something for you."

Grouse swung both legs to one side of the branch, curious to see what the kid would produce from underneath the yellowing fabric. He pulled his hand out and, in a movement too quick to allow her to see what the object was, he tossed it to her.

It was lucky for Grouse that she managed to identify the object just before it hit her. However, she wasn't so lucky to find herself hundreds of feet above the ground.

She shouted as she fell back, the world heaving around her. Immediately, her legs tightened around her branch, catching her upside down. The small, round object flew towards the forest floor and she hung there for a moment, her heart slowing from it's hammering pace.

Her legs began to ache and, hoisting herself up, Grouse managed to pull herself back into an upright position. She was still breathing unevenly, but she managed to compose herself a bit more. She stared at the kid incredulously. "The hell, man? You could have killed me!"

"I told you I was giving you something!" He defended himself, blinking away the shock caused by the unexpected turn of events.

"Don't give me _that_!" Grouse's voice was rising in pitch. "I'm, like, deathly allergic to those things!"

The kid's throwing arm—his right, Grouse noted absently—twitched back to his side so he could hold onto the branch beneath him. "Lychee nuts? You're allergic to _lychee nuts_? That's, like, half of what everybody here eats!"

Grouse huffed, swinging her legs as she looked away. "It's not like I can help it," she argued. "'Sides, meat's the only thing I eat, if I can help it." True, most of the time she couldn't afford to be so picky—she'd learned that the hard way. Whenever she could, however, she avoided her greens.

There was a tense silence. "Well," the boy started, "I'm sorry I almost killed you. I wouldn't have done it if I'd known."

Grouse waved him off. "Yeah, yeah. It's fine. Just don't go waving those things around, okay?"

The boy nodded distractedly. Leaning over his branch, he observed the forest floor, details lost to distance. He didn't seem comfortable being up so high, but said nothing about it. Grouse almost snickered out loud. A fear of heights? Well, a moderate one, if any. Why would he come to talk to her, then, if he was so afraid of heights?

"I'll, uh, I'll leave you be, then." The kid announced, edging his way over to the tree trunk. He looked a bit paler than before, as if he'd just now realized how tall the trees of this forest were. Grouse watched him as he carefully inched his way down the tree, slipping a few times but managing to make it back down in the end.

She still didn't like that kid's attitude. He seemed trustworthy enough, but was he really Freedom Fighter material? Smellerbee said she was interested in this kid's long distance abilities, which Grouse doubted adamantly. No one was as good a shot as Longshot, but Grouse also hated doubting Smellerbee.

And how bad could that kid really be, if he'd come all the way up here just to try and talk to her?

* * *

The nameless kid had tried talking to her a few times after that. Grouse tried not to let on that she was beginning to enjoy his company when she was bored—she was hardly comfortable admitting it to herself. If she found herself alone in the forest with nothing to do, she could count on him to show up and strike up a conversation.

He did have some interesting things to say. He knew a lot of stories, many gained from scrolls he said had once sat in the library in his home. He didn't get too melancholy when he brought up his past, the one annihilated by flames only a week before, but Grouse knew a thing or two about hiding emotions. He said that, in Supong, everyone knew how to read, and that's why they had thrived despite being such a small establishment. Everyone knew everyone, much like how the Freedom Fighters got along with each other. He had even offered to teach her to read, but Grouse had turned him down. She didn't need to read anything in the forest, and she didn't plan on leaving any time soon.

That night was the first night the nameless kid actively participated in evening entertainment. For the most part, he had kept to the crowd of orphans who didn't have anything to do during these festivities, but tonight The Duke had dragged him to the front of the main boardwalk with some of the others.

"Do you play anything?" The Duke asked him, examining a small bongo set up nearby.

"No," the kid said. "But I do sing a bit." He added the last bit proudly. Grouse listened in nearby, she herself remaining at the sidelines, uncomfortable with the idea of even touching an instrument since the last time.

"That works," The Duke agreed with a smile and a nod. Pipsqueak came up behind his friend, eager to get started. Grouse turned her attention to the rest of the assembled orphans, watching them prepare their instruments. As long as the players continued to switch around, evening entertainment was rarely boring or repetitive. There was music and dancing and it was an all around gay time. It was especially enjoyable during the summer, when game was plentiful and no one was freezing to death.

Grouse's attention drifted as the music began, letting herself listen while taking in the familiar details of the forest at night. The sun had set. Lights flickered in the trees, indicating lightning-crickets drifting about as the night's natural energy was drowned out by the sound of the ridiculous music (if one could call it that) and its strange beat.

People were starting to dance, led on by the enthusiastic movements of Smellerbee and Longshot, who danced together to their own in-sync rhythm, hands clasped as they kicked their feet up, both of them smiling and Smellerbee laughing for both of them. No one was quite as eccentric as that pair, Grouse decided.

Her attention was pulled away from them as No Name started his singing. Grouse's ears rang with the sound, startling her from her distraction and earning the entirety of her attention. The kid's words had been an understatement: he sang _way_ more than just "a bit." His words echoed without wavering, pure and punctual and his voice better than any to have previously graced the vigilantes' festivities. He'd perfected the art of projecting his voice in a musical manner—and the Freedom Fighters loved it. It didn't matter what the lyrics were—they didn't usually plan out anything—the listeners would enjoy anything he sang, it seemed.

By the time the music ended, the dancers had tired, but the boy's voice had remained strong throughout the night. He was sweating like the rest of them, panting hard and smiling like the rest of them, but he was not as similar to the rest of them as he would have them believe. He had something extraordinary about him, and exposing that in such a way would leave its mark in the minds of the listeners. They would remember him now, not just as the way-too-nice kid or the new kid, but also as the kid who could out-sing them all. He was the kid with the fresh set of pipes, one of the many that had managed to escape damage in the conflagrations but one of the only who could actually sing.

And it was a memorable event like this that brought a bough of nicknames.

Many had been thrown around throughout the remainder of the week, among them things like "Pipes" and "Vibes", but nothing seemed to stick. The excitement from that night was beginning to die down and Grouse found herself once again without company.

Summer was waning into fall, the sun never quite reaching the peak it used to during those long, hot days. The wind picked up more often, sweeping the trees and picking out the leaves too weak to cling to their branches. Grouse had picked a position closer to the earth on this day, secretly out of respect for No Name's discomfort around heights. She was silently waiting for his arrival, though at the same time trying to look nonchalant. She didn't want to look eager for that ridiculous kid with the forest green eyes and dark hair to show up. No, she was simply enjoying a moment alone in the woods, expecting no one and hoping for nothing more . . .

"I thought I'd find you here," sounded a familiar voice behind her. Grouse tried to fight off a contempt smile as she turned to face the owner.

The boy crawled up on to her branch. She had allowed him to sit nearer as the days passed, never too close but never so far away that one might assume they were strangers to each other. He swung his legs over the tree limb, tapping his fingers on the bark beneath him. He didn't say anything for a moment; he usually waited for her to talk.

"You were pretty good the other night," Grouse mentioned, realizing she hadn't had the chance to commend him on his performance. She wasn't sure what had possessed her to complement him, but it felt like an appropriate conversation starter.

The kid scratched his ear embarrassedly. "Thanks," he replied. "I, uh, never really get to do it anywhere else than Supong. Or, got to, at least."

Grouse glanced at him. He didn't seem to mind bringing up his old home, but that didn't mean he did it often. He also hadn't mentioned his sister since the day Supong was burned down. Grouse knew what it was like to not know if someone important was okay or not. She wasn't sure how he felt about it specifically, but the general idea was there.

She cleared her throat, intending to get rid of the silence more than anything else. "Well, I'll admit it wasn't awful." Grouse looked away thoughtfully for a moment. "You hit some pretty high octaves, didn't you? Even the low ones didn't give you trouble." She desperately hoped she had gotten that musical term right.

The kid leaned over his branch, swinging his legs eagerly and staring at her with a wide smile. "I did, didn't I?" He drummed his fingers on the branch below him. "I always liked music. My parents didn't think singing was something worthwhile, but Han and I . . . we always did anyway." He sighed reminiscently. "She loved music too. Liked playing it on instruments more than singing, though." He laughed airily. "She was stubborn, too. Kind of reminds me of you."

"I _am_ pretty stubborn," Grouse conceded carefully, aware that this subject may be a bit touchy no matter how he tried to dress it up. "But I was never really great with music. I'm more left-brained than right."

"Anyone can make music, Grouse." The kid insisted. "It doesn't matter what kind, or even if you think it's any good. It's about having fun more than anything, if you ask me."

Grouse didn't care, one way or the other. He couldn't convince her that music was any more than a measured sentence of mixed sounds even if some Spirit of Music appeared before them and taught her everything there was to know. It just wasn't important to her like battle strategy and calculation, but if it was important to him she decided she wouldn't mock it openly.

A nearby rustling in the trees stole Grouse's attention. The Duke appeared, swinging around a vertical branch and landing beside the pair of Freedom Fighters.

"Grouse, Sneers was looking for you. Something about scouting." The Duke explained. Grouse smacked a hand to her head and groaned.

"I completely forgot!" She stood precariously on the branch as The Duke took off into the trees. She turned to the boy behind her. "I'll see you later, kid." She grinned and headed after The Duke.

"I'm pretty sure I'm, like, two seasons older than you!" He called back, watching her retreating form. The boy watched as the branches trembled to a standstill in Grouse's wake. He hummed thoughtfully. "Octaves, huh?"

The boy grinned to himself, watching as the sun lowered itself towards the horizon.

* * *

_Now_

Looking back, Grouse realized she must have looked pretty ridiculous, stubbornly arguing with such an amazing person. If Octave hadn't put up with her back then, she wouldn't be missing him as horribly as she was now. Not that she wanted that—their friendship had been something admirable. Blindly relying on each other despite the situation, Grouse and Octave had been inseparable.

At least, up until now.

Grouse heaved a sigh, shifting onto her side. Outside the window, the dark world was deceivingly peaceful despite the war that raged on. Even now, far from the sanctuary of the forest, families were being uprooted and destroyed, all due to the greed of the Fire Nation. It didn't sit well with Grouse that the Earth Kingdom would inevitably fall completely, just like many northern villages and cities. Ba Sing Se was the only one she knew to still be standing, and even that could have changed since word last got around.

If the world could have small pockets of peace like their forest, what was stopping those seams from breaking and those pockets from spreading? Grouse could only think of one answer, and it was an obvious one. The only question was: how could they be stopped?

Every other offensive maneuver the remaining two nations had tried had failed. The Water Tribes hadn't been invaded yet, but it was only a matter of time until they fell to the Fire Nation's advancements. Even the Earth Kingdom remained on its feet, shaky and weak from the weight of the nation overtaking them. They would fall soonest, no doubt. The largest, hardiest nation of them all would fall to the Fire Nation scum.

But the firebenders would have to move south to take over the continent, and that meant there would be more soldiers in the forest than earlier that morning.

Could everything really have happened only hours before? It seemed like it had been days since Octave had died, days since that moment in the graveyard where they had sat, together, mourning the loss of family and neither suspecting either would be following suit so soon. Grouse could hardly comprehend that it had all happened in the span of twenty-four hours. How could a life like his, so brilliant and radiant, be extinguished so quickly, in those moments that had taken years to pass? Why was his blood so beautifully crimson and heartbeat so undeniably stopped? A voice that could sing more exquisitely than a songbird and a family of vigilantes that cared for him as deeply as a group of forest-going orphans could care for a person. Every trace of his life had vanished from the tree fort, but the footprint he left behind seemed to crush the whole forest. He had left them in ruins, unintentionally, but in ruins nonetheless.

Why them? Grouse couldn't help but find herself asking this question. Why was it always them, over and over? Sure, the Freedom Fighters threw themselves into fights all the time, but always for good reason. Mostly in defense of themselves or of the rights of the Earth Kingdom villages, but they always seemed to find themselves in trouble. Maybe it was a curse, Grouse decided. Maybe, ever since Jet had assembled this fighting team, ever since the first Freedom Fighters had set foot into the world, they had been doomed to die, one after the other, until no one was left. Maybe that very same curse was haunting her. The leaders always went down first, it seemed. If that was the case, it was only a matter of time before it was her gravestone was the one assembled . . .

Grouse sat up abruptly, rustling the one thin blanket covering her. Nearby, Spunk muttered something in her sleep. No, Grouse wasn't going to let that happen. She wasn't going to die before she did something about the current state of the world.

But what could she possibly do when she kept to herself in a forest, working so hard to liberate one small village but never quite succeeding?

How could the Freedom Fighters save anyone?

* * *

The next morning was full of sunshine and melancholy faces. The mood drifted through the tree fort like a fog, ruined only by the early sunlight that refused to relent for their sakes. It was as if the universe itself was trying to get the Freedom Fighters to forget about the boy who had died at that same time just one day before.

Piper still refused to speak to anyone, especially Grouse. When Ballad tried to cheer her up by comparing her to Longshot, she turned and marched away from him irritably. Maybe joking about another dead person in the wake of all that had happened had not been one of Ballad's smarter ideas.

Somehow, Chime managed to keep his head above the flood of depression, diving back in time and time again, trying to pull the others up with him. The young scout was desperately trying to salvage the moods of his friends despite the waves that threatened to pull him under. It always came down to this, it seemed. When all of his pessimistic friends had fallen so far into the well of their own misery that they had no way out, Chime would show up with a rope hanging around his scrawny arms and send it over the side to their rescue. Now it was only a matter of whether they took the rope or not.

Chime had been studying his friends all morning, hoping to find something that would encourage them to forget their moodiness and move on. For all of the suffering around him, Chime, despite his young age, was undeterred. The only other person he could find that wasn't moping appeared to be Grouse, which surprised Chime a little. Of all people, he had suspected she and Piper would be hit hardest.

But Grouse didn't seem happy to Chime either. Well that was normal: the girl was hardly ever happy, but she seemed particularly distracted today. When Chime spotted her, she was lacking in her only piece of armor, a stolen chest plate with a missing top half (long story) that she usually had wrapped around her ribcage. She was pacing one of the upper platforms alone, her feet bare as if she had forgotten to fit her shoes onto them that morning. Her face was pensive and her hands couldn't find a place to stay. She would go up to the rail and tighten her hands around it, then walk back and forth some more, her fingers combing through her short hair. She was stressed about something, Chime could tell. She always did that when she was stressed. He had not seen her do that in a while, though. Usually she went to Octave for advice, or he would find her up there and bring her down. But without him, Grouse had no one to calm her down. Chime would have gone up there, but he knew what happened to people who tried to ease her qualms when she was up there and, personally, he didn't fancy getting skewered so early in the morning.

So the younger boy opted to find Piper and calm her down instead. After she had stormed off, none of the Freedom Fighters had seen her. Chime immediately found a zip line and, latching onto it with a confident grip, he pushed off of the platform and flew through the trees. When he reached the edge of the tree fort, he let go of the handle and landed on a narrow branch with refined balance. The trees thickened outside of the fortress, making it harder for Chime to determine where his friend could have gone.

She wouldn't want to be near the graveyard, he deduced that much. There were so many other trees to check, though, and Chime doubted he could find her in time to get back to a scouting assignment he was neglecting. With all of the little nooks and crannies their forest contained, Chime decided a few major landforms would be better places to start. The first thing that came to mind: the river.

Piper loved swimming. She especially loved swimming when she needed to clear her head, so now would be the perfect time to find her in the deep end. She was as much an opposite of Grouse as Octave had been in that she loved swimming, reading, and had the ability to be extremely nice. Chime almost laughed to himself at the memory of the time Piper had tried to teach Grouse to swim with the other Freedom Fighters but pushed the thought from his mind. He needed to focus on finding Piper and bringing her back to the tree fort.

Chime reached the river's edge on foot after taking another zip line. He scanned the banks in search of his older friend, but couldn't spot her.

_Wait_.

There, on the opposite bank, shoved between two boulders, Chime could see the dark maroon fabric of Piper's tunic poking out. She must have come from upstream, where the water was shallow enough to wade through but too shallow to swim in. Chime scanned the water, searching for his female friend. She must have swam further downstream, he decided, to a place where the water was at it's deepest. He and The Duke would fish around there sometimes, usually scaring the fish more than catching them.

When he found her, she was swimming in her wrappings, floating on her back and drifting slowly around in the water. Chime called out to her. She turned, startled to see him but quickly masking her surprise. The younger boy quickly shuffled down to the waters edge, sitting down in order to come off as less threatening. He folded his legs neatly and leaned over the water. Piper continued to swim around aimlessly.

"What's eatin' yah, Pipes?" Chime called, knowing there must have been more to it than her brother's death.

She didn't answer immediately, instead opting to submerge her head up to her ears in the river water. Her arms pushed against the current, the effort long since diminished by years of repeating the task. Chime waited patiently for an answer, knowing it would take her a minute to think of one.

"Everyone . . ." She trailed off, thinking of how she should continue. "They just seem so . . . insensitive. Like, Octave just _died_. My _brother_ just died. He was the only family I had left—how am I supposed to just pick everything back up and carry on without him?"

Chime fiddled with a blade of grass thoughtfully, observing the plants that grew at the riverbanks and considering his answer carefully.

"Is that really how you feel, Piper?" He asked calmly, watching a ladybug-mantis dance away from the water. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her turn to look at him. When she didn't answer, Chime continued. "Family isn't a group of blood relatives. Family is a group of people that fate brought together, a group of people who will support you despite your situation. Octave wasn't your only family, Pipes."

Chime smiled at the older girl's slightly surprised expression. Age had never mattered much to the Freedom Fighters (though they recorded it anyway), but in that moment Chime could tell Piper hadn't expected this wisdom to come from a younger voice, one not yet weathered down by years of choking.

"We're still here, after all."


End file.
